


untitled

by shahrizai



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shahrizai/pseuds/shahrizai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Portraits of two brothers over twelve years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

\- year one -

The three boys - no, men now - flanked their father who sat in the highbacked chair, cradling a tiny bundle in his arms. Even being fifteen, Vayne had not yet reached his growth spurt and resented having to stand to the side of the chair for his face to be seen. His older brothers rose tall above him, but they always had, and not just in physical stature.

His scowl was evident as the portraitist motioned for him to make a more neutral face. He was tired, he had other things to do than to stand around for hours on end and--

And the cry that bounced off the walls reminded him that there was someone here that was likely more annoyed than him. Gramis tried to shush the baby, but the wails would not stop. His father looked expectantly at him and handed Larsa to him.

That is right. Larsa would quiet only for him, already knew that Vayne loved him more than the rest of them ever could. This was *his* little hope, all his dreams wrapped up into one innocent, violet-eyed creature.

\- year five -

The years had flown by. Too much turmoil, too many deaths to fit in the opportunity for a still moment of their lives. Vayne had come to dislike portraits, he had already found a much more lasting way to attain his immortality. His legacy was freedom to his people, opportunity for his country, life for his brother.

Life for he whom was full of it, facing the day with bright eyes and an inquiring mind. Life for the boy who squirmed nervously next to his father. Vayne set his hand on a slim shoulder, prompting Larsa to turn his head towards him. He basked in that smile, the curving of pale lips that had carelessly dropped kisses on his cheeks many times.

And even as Gramis' gentle hands spun the boy back towards the painter, Vayne could feel that smile down to his very bones, and licked his lips in response.

\- year twelve -

There was just the two of them now, Vayne leaning tall against the back of the chair, broad shoulders touching the edges of that which once seemed so large. Larsa objected to Vayne's one demand in this sitting, which was to perch on his brother's knee, but consented after Vayne's urgings that the people must know that the last two Solidors were not interested dueling each other for the throne.

Vayne stroked Larsa's hair at his nape, admiring the way it flipped at its ends, the fine strands so different than his own coarse hair. He also admired the way Larsa almost leaned back into his touch. He had heard of the dancer that Larsa had become preoccupied with, and pondered whether it was mere curiosity for a foreigner, or if his innocent boy was not so innocent, or boyish, any longer.

He skimmed his fingertips down Larsa's neck, and the shiver that accompanied it was not the flinch and squeak of the little boy, but an awkward response to a pleasurable touch. He wished he could see the struggle Larsa had to keep teeth from worrying his bottom lip.

Then the portraitist announced it was done, and the boy jumped too quickly from his lap - his lap? when did he move back that far? - and ran out of the room. Vayne smiled smugly, remembering that age all too well, and glanced at the portrait.

One king, one prince, one king, one kingdom.


End file.
